everything i put in my mouth feels impossibly dry
even my tongue
crushing up against the roof of my mouth.
slowly my glands must dilate
for i compact
food into a globular package
delivered lengua fresca
a little joke can release
torrents, abashed
jubilant sobs unhinged by the mysteries of secretion
things the soul cannot keep
not everything i put in my mouth
will sustain me
sustenance comes rare these days
oh! how the hunger aches and roars!
it is acid that pours from me
wretched through watery eyes
survey with bitter pleasure
the ripest fruit of my stagnation
at last, to be matched.
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